Return to Shadowfang Keep
by Xeratos
Summary: An old tauren takes his grandchildren on a tour of Shadowfang Keep. He recounts the struggles of his younger years as they attempted to cleanse it of Arugal's presence. A sinister presence lurks within the ruined walls, however, and danger still hides in the darkness.


The sound of hoof beats on the old weathered flagstones rang through the air as the three taurens approached the dark keep. Two were young, male and female, each barely into adulthood, and the third much older. His face was lined, and his eyes dulled with age. Thick tufts of gray were streaked through his beard.

The trio stopped at the entrance to the keep. A rusted portcullis hung suspended above them. Its iron spikes, dull but still heavy, looked like nothing so much as jagged teeth guarding the keep. The young male tauren reached out and touched the stones of the wall next to the entry. "This is it, then? This is the infamous Shadowfang Keep?" he asked the older one.

"Yes, Sashin," the old tauren said. "This is where the archmage Arugal retreated with his worgen army and terrorized Silverpine Forest. This is where your father met his end at the hands of that insane mage."

The female tauren laid a hand on the old one's shoulder. "Don't be sad, Great Father. Our father lived with honor, and died a warrior's death. I still miss him, but no proud warrior could ask for anything more."

The old tauren sighed, then smiled at his granddaughter. "You are wise, for one so young. I do not think I could call my son's death so honorable though," he said. "Someday, you will be a powerful druid, just like your mother."

Sashin waved a hand dismissively. "Druids are all well and good, Eleuin," he said to her. "But the elements speak to Great Father Araluen and me. Shamans are the true caretakers of the world."

The old tauren frowned as his grandson expressed that sentiment. "Both druid and shaman have a part to play, Sashin. Each is important, and neither is greater than the other. Enough of this though. Come, young ones, and I will tell you the tale of your father's greatest glories."

The old tauren led his two grandchildren into the darkness. They passed under the iron portcullis and stepped into the depths of Shadowfang Keep.

Rain matted down his dark brown fur, but Araluen didn't mind. He had spent almost his entire life outdoors, and trained for years in the ways of the shaman. A little water did nothing to dampen his spirits.

His son, Kalgoth, was a different story. The younger tauren, his own fur so dark as to be almost black, growled his displeasure as the water dripped off his horns and nose ring. "My armor's going to rust off of me if this keeps up," he grumbled as he shifted the straps that held his shield to his back.

"Be quiet, fool," the undead next to him hissed. A member of the Forsaken, under the rule of Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Viktor Kremlaught had been a small and wiry man in life. His talents lay in his thieving and sneaking abilities, though he was well versed in the use of the twin knives that hung from his belt. His skin was pale where it hadn't rotted off his body, and his remaining hair hung in long tangled ropes from his decaying scalp. His eyes were softly glowing yellow pinpricks of light as he glared at Kalgoth angrily.

"We're still half a mile from the keep," the orc hunter, Laxam commented. "Do you really think Arugal's ears are that sharp?" He dropped a hand down to the wolf, which he called Blackwind, standing next to him and tousled the animal's ears. His skin was a light green, almost but not quite yellow. "Though Kalgoth does have a point about the rain. My bow will be of little use soon if this keeps up."

"Don't ya be worryin' about da rain, mon," the fifth member of their group said. "You'll be wishin' ya was back in it soon enough." The tallest of the group, the troll mage Kujimba, stretched to his full height as he spoke. Well over seven feet tall, his loose robes did nothing to hide his lanky frame. Like most of his kind, Kujimba rarely stood at full height. Instead, he had a pronounced slouch, bringing him down to eye level with the orc standing near him.

Viktor rounded on Laxam and Kujimba in a fury. "There is a veritable army of worgen in these damned woods," he snarled. "Not every one will attack us on sight. We would do well to remember that the element of surprise is our only chance at this. If Arugal knows we're here, his defenses will be raised and much more formidable. Now, all of you shut up."

Viktor was in command of the group, and at his order, the idle chatter of the others drifted off. Araluen silently thought to himself that if anything were to give them away, it would be the odor of rot and decay coming from the rogue himself, but he didn't voice that opinion. A quick look shared with his son confirmed that both taurens' sensitive noses had reached the same conclusion.

Quietly, the party trooped through the forest, each watching for the presence of the menacing worgen. Feral, half beast creatures, the worgen had been summoned to Azeroth from another world by Arugal. The archmage had overestimated his ability to control them, though, and they'd quickly turned on the wizards of the Kirin Tor. After that, they'd taken the keep of Baron Silverlaine. Arugal had retreated there with them, and the newly dubbed Shadowfang Keep had become a house of horror and torture to the residents of Silverpine Forest.

Now that the Forsaken had control of the area, though, Sylvanas wanted the Keep cleaned out, and Arugal's worgen menance ended once and for all. Rather than a full assault on the heavily fortified keep, she'd opted to send out a strike force to infiltrate, kill, and ultimately take the head of Arugal himself.

Truly, Araluen didn't relish his role in the mission. Only the taurens' blood debt to the orcs and their pledge of loyalty to the Horde kept him at the disagreeable Viktor's side. Kalgoth had refused to let his father undertake the dangerous mission alone, and so had joined as well.

Araluen had argued with him. He'd told his son that his place was by his wife's side with their newly born twins. Kalgoth would hear nothing of it. He'd simply pulled his sword and shield from their chest and began strapping on his armor. Out of arguments, and with his daughter-in-law's blessing, the older tauren had taken his son with him.

They came out of the trees to the flagstone road that wound its way up the hill to the entry to Shadowfang Keep. With quick, darting looks, Viktor scouted the area as he sprinted across the open ground to take cover next to a large stone outcropping. With one hand, he beckoned the rest of the party forward. They came with clanks and huffs and loud footsteps.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to be a bit louder?" the rogue said scathingly at them. "I don't think Arugal's got an accurate count of our numbers from his dead sleep."

"Enough, Viktor," Araluen said. "We are each here for our respective talents, and ours are different than yours."

"I don't expect you to be as skilled as me in the subtle arts," Viktor snapped. "It would be nice if you made an effort though."

Forestalling any further conversation with a single upraised hand, Viktor peaked out around the stone to inspect the keep. "Everything looks quiet. Let's go," he said.

They climbed the path, hunched over at Viktor's command and with each step as quiet as they could make it. The taurens in particular had a rough time of this. Their hard hooves clapped against the flagstones with every step, and no matter how they tried to muffle them, they were never fully successful.

Viktor gave up scolding them and instead settled into a series of twitches and flinches as they followed the path. In the back, Kujimba snickered and covered his tusked mouth with one hand. "Don't ya be worryin' yarself about it," he said to Kalgoth as the young tauren's brow furrowed. "Some people be more high strung dan others."

Viktor rounded the last bend of the path, then turned back to the rest. "Wait here," he whispered. He snuck back around the corner and approached the entry. Araluen peered around the corner, but could find no trace of the stealthy rogue. He scanned what little he could see of the interior of the keep, but the only thing he could clearly make out was a heavy iron portcullis raised into the air, its blunt teeth dangling dangerously overhead.

A second portcullis was barely visible inside, and this one was lowered completely. Araluen leaned out farther to try to get a better look, then jumped back in surprise as Viktor prodded him with a bony finger. "What are you doing, idiot?" he said. "I told you to wait."

A low growl came from Kalgoth, but his father placed a restraining hand on him. "Now is not the time," was all he said to the warrior.

Viktor motioned the rest of the party to follow, and they approached the keep. On either side of the entrance, they peered in. Several worgen were visible beyond the portcullis, holding a visibly battered Forsaken between them. Suddenly, with a flash, a tall man in black robes trimmed in silver stood next to the worgen.

"I have changed my mind loyal servants, you do not need to bring the prisoner all the way to my study, I will deal with him here and now," the man said. "Vincent! You and your pathetic ilk will find no more success in routing my sons and I than those beggardly remnants of the Kirin Tor. If you will not serve my Master with your sword and knowledge of his enemies...Your moldering remains will serve me as a testament to what happens when one is foolish enough to trespass in my domain!"

The man gestured with a hand, and a crackling black bolt of power shot through the Forsaken. The undead gave a ragged gasp and slumped down in the worgens' grasp. They released him, and he fell to the flagstones of the courtyard. Without another word, the man disappeared the same way he'd arrived, in a flash of light.

"Damn you, Arugal," Viktor growled. "So much for Deathstalker Vincent. Hopefully Adamant is still alive, at least."

Araluen merely shook his head at the entire scene. "What a horrible thing for a person to do," he remarked sadly. "The humans never cease to amaze me with the depths of their callousness and cruelty."

Viktor looked sharply at the tauren. Though Araluen had said nothing to or about him, it was obvious to everyone that his opinion of the humans extended equally to the Forsaken, if not more so.

"From here on, stealth is out the window," the rogue told them. "Speed is our greatest strength now. Fight fiercely, kill quickly. Arugal will know we're here soon enough, and we must reach him before he has time to rally his worgen to him."

They'd barely taken a step into the keep when a large, white furred worgen came barreling out of a side room at them. It was followed closely by an equally white furred worg, a large, beastly cousin to the lesser wolf. With a roar, Kalgoth charged at the worgen. A ferocious crack sounded as he slammed his shield into the worgen's face, stunning it and making it stagger a step.

An arrow sliced through the air to sink into the worg's side, and Laxam's own wolf was quick behind it. Leaping through the air, it caught the white worg's neck in its teeth and began tearing back and forth. Kujimba threw both hands forward, and a blast of fire threw the worg to the ground, where Blackwind pinned it. Both creatures snarled and snapped, and the orc had a difficult time finding a clear shot as they rolled around.

Viktor was not so hesitant. With a twist of shadow, he appeared behind the worgen and viciously slammed both knives into the beast's sides. The worgen howled in pain, a howl that only intensified as a bolt of blue lightning hammered it and Kalgoth's sword sliced its hide into ribbons of flesh.

The howl ended abruptly as Viktor leaped up and planted his feet on the worgen's lower back. Bringing all his weight to bear, he dragged a knife across the side of the beast's throat. Blood splattered across his hand as he rode the creature down to the flagstones, then leaped clear as it crashed heavily into them.

A second blast of lightning went off. It arced from Araluen's outstretched hand into the white worg. The shock threw Blackwind through the air. The worg lay on the ground twitching until Kalgoth stepped up and caved in its skull with his sword.

Laxam spun angrily on Araluen. "Watch where you're throwing those things," he said. "Just because he can't talk doesn't mean Blackwind isn't important."

"I know this," the tauren said. "I am sorry to have injured your companion, but rest assured the pain is only temporary. I am well versed in shamanistic healing powers."

The shaman reached out a hand to Blackwind's side and tenderly smoothed down the scorched fur. As his hand moved, the fur returned to its former smoothness, and the tender flesh underneath mended and healed.

"Less talking, more moving," Viktor ordered the party. "We won't be getting through this portcullis anytime soon, so it looks like our only other option is through there." The rogue pointed towards the door that the worgen had charged through.

The party crossed through the room and up several stairs into a long hall. Beds of straw lined the walls, and the stench of unkempt animals filled the room. Several worgs rose from their resting places as the party walked in, and a pair of worgen entering from the other side froze at the sight of them.

Laxam's bow led the charge this time as he unloaded arrow after arrow into them. Kalgoth gave the hunter's target a wide berth, and instead set himself between the worgs and his father as they loped across the room. The first leapt at him, but he swatted it aside with his sword. The second crashed onto his well placed shield, dragging the tauren's arm down and allowing the third to slam into his chest. Kalgoth staggered back a step, then recovered with a powerful forward surge. He threw both worgs off him to the ground, then quick stepped in and slashed his sword down at one.

Araluen raised a hand towards one of the worgs, and a burst of fire engulfed it. The worg yelped as flames licked its skin and continued to burn on its fur. With a panicked roll, the worg smothered the fire. It leaped, snarling, back to its feet. Before it could advance any further, Kujimba completed his spell and shot a sphere of ice and water at it.

The worg tumbled to the ground, frozen and burnt, and didn't rise back up. Kalgoth finished the second one, and Viktor sliced the third apart. Across the room, Laxam had killed one of the worgen and was busy filling the second with more arrows as it struggled towards him. Blackwind nipped at it and dragged at its limbs, slowing its progress even more.

Kujimba completed another spell, and a series of small, glowing purple and blue bolts flashed out from the tips of his fingers. Each one racked the worgen as it sparked against the creature's body, and when the last had landed, the beast lay still on the ground.

"Dat be da way ta do it," the troll mage announced happily.

Araluen healed his son's wounds quickly, and the party went up the stairs in the back of the room. They came into a hall with a door on the left wall and one towards the end on the right. The left side door hung wide open. "This way first," Viktor said.

They came into a large room with several pillars supporting the roof. They stood on a balcony overlooking a pit with half a dozen worgen in it, including the largest specimen any of them had ever seen. Standing head and shoulders over the other worgen, it snarled and snapped at any that got too close to it. Its head shot upright and it sniffed the air, then with a howl, the entire pack charged up the stairs to the balcony.

"Rethilgore," Viktor said, naming the worgen. "Arugal's prison keeper."

Kalgoth gave a roar of his own as he charged into the pack of worgen. He worked his sword left, then right, and fended off the sweeping slashes of worgen claws with his shield at the same time. Blood splattered across his chest as he carved pieces of flesh from his foes, and the worgens' bloodthirsty howls turned into howls of pain instead.

Fire and ice burst around him as Kujimba unleashed his magic, and arrows peppered Rethilgore's face and shoulders. The fierce worgen snarled and with a swipe of its claws snapped off the shaft and stalked forward. Viktor appeared behind it and slammed his knives into the beast's back repeatedly, then nimbly ducked a lumbering swipe and went back to work.

Araluen unleashed wave after wave of healing magic into his son as Kalgoth fought to hold off five worgen simultaneously. He gave as good as he got, but the worgen lacked the magical backup the tauren warrior enjoyed. Soon enough, two of them were on the floor, their entrails spilling across the wood. A third worgen went flying through the air as Kalgoth's thick hoof caught it in the gut and hurled it backwards.

Kalgoth decapitated another worgen, and Kujimba ended the fifth's life with a scorching blast of fire. The one Kalgoth had kicked almost made it back into the fight before Araluen's lightning struck it down. Over to the side, Rethilgore was slumped against one of the pillars, bleeding from countless wounds. With a nasty smirk, Viktor slipped the tip of his knife under the worgen's chin and stabbed it through the creature's throat. Rethilgore gurgled softly as blood seeped through the opening and out its mouth.

"About time someone killed that wretch," came a voice from the pit.

"For once I agree with you, scum," a thickly accented voice responded.

Viktor hopped the balcony rail and landed lightly in the pit. "Deathstalker Adamant," he said. "So good to see you. Let me see what I can do to get you out here."

"At last!" the Forsaken exclaimed. "Someone to free me from this cell! High Executor Hadrec sent us to gather information on the Keep so that a plan could be formulated to overthrow Arugal once and for all. But the old wizard has many tricks up his sleeve and we were detected by a magical ward.

"I was thrown in this prison. Vincent was not so lucky. I must return to Hadrec to debrief him at once. But first I will pick the lock to the courtyard door for you. Perhaps you can try your luck against the foes that lurk beyond."

"Yes, do that," Viktor said absently as he stared into the other cell. "I'll take care of this human while you do."

"Ashcrombe?" Adamant said. "Well, I won't say I'll miss his company. Beware the man in the other cell. He's been cursed by Arugal, and shifts into a worgen without control."

Adamant walked up the stairs past the rest of the group. Araluen walked over to stand next to Viktor. "What are you planning to do," he asked the rogue.

"Isn't it obvious?" Viktor snapped. "There's no point in leaving him alive to return to the Alliance, and he's more likely to make it out if left to his own devices than that pathetic specimen over there." The rogue gestured towards the third cell, where a dejected looking human huddled in a corner, oblivious to his surroundings.

"Stand back, monster," Ashcrombe said in his heavily stilted accent. He raised his hands threateningly, but Viktor just laughed. He reached out and pulled the switch to open the prison cell gate. Ashcrombe immediately launched into a spell, but before he could finish, Viktor was behind him.

"Too slow," he hissed with a laugh as he dragged his knife across the human's throat. "Much, much too slow."

Ashcrombe coughed up blood and stared at the tauren outside the cell as his eyes glazed over. Araluen averted his gaze and shook his head. "That was needless and cruel," he admonished Viktor.

"Shut up," the Forsaken said. "That's war. I don't need a lesson in morality from you, cow."

Araluen turned to the last remaining human. He approached the cell, and the man shrank back from him. He began speaking, but the shaman didn't understand the language. He shot a questioning look at Viktor.

"He told you to stay away from him, and that there was no telling when the sickness would return," Viktor supplied. "That's one human I don't mind leaving alive."

Adamant poked his head back around the corner. "The door's open," he informed Viktor. He handed the Forsaken a piece of paper with scribbled notes on it. "This is what I was able to find out before I was caught. Good luck with Arugal. I must report back to Hadrec now."

The party returned to the previous hall and walked to the end. True to his word, Deathstalker Adamant had left the door unlocked and open. Laxam poked his head through the door and peered out into the courtyard.

"That's a lot of worgen," he said. "We might want to rethink our strategy."

Viktor pushed the orc aside to get a look at the courtyard. "Damn. And if that weren't enough, it looks like they've somehow recruited the spirits of the dead humans. Look at them walking around each other like they've been allies their entire lives."

Great Father Araluen led Sashin and Eleuin down the rotting wooden steps into the courtyard. "Were there really so many as that?" Sashin asked as he surveyed the ruined stonework.

"An almost overwhelming number," the old tauren assured his grandson. "And the specters of the dead humans, brought back from the grave and given corporeal form so that they might fight as well."

"If there were really so many, then how did you win, Great Father?" Eleuin said.

"Luck, mostly," Great Father Araluen told her with a wink. "Viktor was merciless in combat. He had all sorts of deadly tricks, everything from explosives to garrote strings. Kujimba was a powerful mage even then, as well. Ultimately though, I would say credit for us surviving that battle would go to your father."

"What did he do?" Sashin whispered in awe.

Great Father Araluen walked into the courtyard, then stopped and kneeled down. "Here," he said, pointing to a small pit in the ground. Only a few inches wide and not even as deep, the pit was perfectly circular. "Here is where I laid down my totem and called upon the Earth spirits to guard us."

The totem slid through the stone as easily as a knife through butter. It sunk in only an inch or so, but held its position firmly. "Spirits of the Earth, guard us and keep us safe," Araluen intoned as he prayed over the totem.

He felt the sheltering might of the Earth coating his skin, making it hard as stone. Nearby, his son felt the same. Amidst the chaos of combat, with bursts of fire everywhere and arrows almost literally raining from the sky, Kalgoth was a rock. Waves of worgen crashed against him, but he refused to budge. Each and every one was batted aside or thrown back into its fellows.

He suffered wound after wound, bearing each stoically as his father worked tirelessly to heal them. He didn't falter, didn't step back. A worgen rose in front of him, and he dealt with it decisively, either with sword or shield. Each was a capable weapon in the warrior's hands.

Viktor slipped through them, sliding into openings he seemed to create as if by magic. His knives worked brilliantly, independent in each hand as he sliced at hamstrings, gutted worgen, and slashed open their throats. A group arrived at the north end of the courtyard and charged into combat, but stopped, stunned, as some sort of bomb thrown from the Forsaken's hands exploded in their midst.

Worse were the specters of the servants slain when the worgen had taken the keep. How they'd been coerced into fighting for their conquerors was a mystery to Araluen, but one of a philosophical nature. How it had happened didn't matter so much at the moment as the fact that it had.

The specters were translucent, and easy to miss. They were solid, and could be injured, but drifted in unnoticed to stab at the party with their kitchen knives and bludgeon them with broken chair legs. It was all Araluen could do to keep his friends and family alive as wave after wave of the relentless assault broke on their bodies.

The bodies of the worgen continued to pile up, and mixed in with them were the smaller worgs of Shadowfang Keep. Always, Blackwind tore at them, his teeth seeking their throats, his nails scoring their flanks. Laxam let loose volley after volley of arrows, skillfully sinking each shaft into the worgs, but never his own companion.

It seemed the party would indeed win out against Arugal's minions until three large, black horses kicked out the stable wall and charged into the courtyard. Prodded by the spectral servants, they charged into combat. The horses reared up and lashed out with their powerful hooves, catching Kalgoth and stunning him. The warrior shook his head slowly to overcome the dizziness, then set his shield to catch the next kicks.

The blows reverberated through the metal and down his arm, numbing it to the shoulder. With a growl, he lashed out with his sword, scoring hit after hit on the horses. Laxam shifted his attention to them as well, and soon two of the three were down, riddled with arrows and sword wounds. The third slammed its body into Kalgoth and finally succeeded in breaking the tauren's stance. Araluen cried out as his son tumbled to the ground, but before the evil horse could strike him, Viktor landed on top and set his twin knives to work.

As suddenly as it had begun, the fight ended. Almost a score of dead worgen littered the courtyard, and a likewise number of the wolf-like worg lay slain beside them. A bare handful of the spectral servants had been killed, but the important thing was that none were still alive.

Kalgoth slowly climbed back to his feet. His powerful shoulders slumped with weariness as he surveyed the battlefield. He shook his head, then wiped the blade clean on a worgen corpse before sheathing it.

"Hurry," Viktor said as he studied the paper Adamant had given him. He stuffed it into a pocket, then looked at the rest of the group. "We don't have time to rest. Heal his wounds, Araluen, and we'll keep moving."

The shaman did just that, though not as quickly as he would have in the beginning. They waited briefly for Viktor to scout ahead, then decided to pass through the kitchens rather than the armory.

Hooks dangled from thick chains with large slabs of meat speared on them in the room. A large cooking pot in the back corner had a fire lit under it, and a hunk of some unidentified meat cooked in it. Standing amidst the chains was a worgen as large as Rethilgore, seeming in every way the monster's twin.

"Intruders?" the worgen growled, surprising the group. None except Viktor had known that the savage beasts could talk. It hefted a huge meat slicing blade in one hand and grabbed at one of the chains. "Usually my meat isn't delivered to me still kicking."

The worgen snarled and tore a chunk of raw, bloody meat from the hook with its mouth. It chewed savagely, biting down hard and sending rivulets of blood running down its muzzle. With a gulp, it swallowed the meat half chewed, then howled and launched itself at Laxam.

The orc reacted quickly, and fired off several arrows into the worgen's chest. None of them slowed it down in the least, and the beast, several feet taller than Laxam, closed in quickly and slashed the hunter with a meaty claw. Lines of blood blossomed across Laxam's chest as he flew backward.

The worgen started closing in, but was tripped up by Blackwind, and a wave of frosty cold air rushed out from Kujimba. Ice formed across the worgen's feet, holding it in place. The beast growled and flexed its legs, and the ice cracked. Before it could break free completely, a blast of fire erupted in the air around it, scorching it.

The impact broke the ice the rest of the way and knocked the worgen onto its backside, where Blackwind was immediately on it. The worgen slashed at the wolf with its sword to keep it back as it climbed to its feet. It was only half way there when Viktor's knifes stabbed deep into its sides.

"Razorclaw the Butcher, I presume," the rogue said. "We've come for your master, monster."

With savage glee, Viktor dragged the knives across the worgen's side, stabbing in between each rib. He was halfway across Razorclaw's chest when Kalgoth cleaved the worgen's skull in with his sword.

"You take pleasure in toying with your enemies, of bleeding them of a thousand tiny wounds and dragging out the kill," the warrior spat at Viktor. "You yourself said we must hurry. We have no time for your demented games."

A dangerous glint came into the yellow light of Viktor's eyes. "Watch yourself, tauren. Don't forget that this is my mission. I make the decisions, I issue the orders."

Araluen helped Laxam to his feet and healed the cuts in the hunter's chest, then turned to regard his son and the merciless Forsaken. "Enough," he said with finality. "My son is not wrong in his observations, Viktor. But we aren't here to discuss this. I want this business done. It leaves a foul taste in my mouth. Keep moving."

Before the rogue could respond, a specter entered the kitchen from the north door. "What's going on in here?" he asked, but stopped as he saw Razorclaw's body on the floor and the bloodied blades of Viktor and Kalgoth. Without saying anything else, he spun around and fled back out of the room.

"After him!" Viktor said as he leaped forward. The rest of the group charged behind, led by an arrow from Laxam's bow. It sunk into the specter's shoulder, but didn't stop the undead man's flight.

They chased him through the kitchens and into the dining hall, were a large number of spectral servants were busy setting a series of long bench tables. An older, balding specter oversaw the work from the far end of the room, and it was to him that they saw the servant running.

The man looked over at the group as they entered. "Stop them!" he bellowed to his servants. Immediately, they all stopped what they were doing and began grabbing up knives from the tables. They weren't impressive weapons, but their numbers were easily three times greater than Viktor's party.

"Dis gonna be fun, mon," Kujimbda said. "Target practice!"

He fell into his casting then, and blasts of ice and water shot out from his hands, chilling the specters and slowing their movements. Laxam set his bow to work, unloading almost an entire quiver of arrows at the approaching horde. Araluen chose not to expend his magic, and instead hefted a heavy mace.

The undead were on them then, and Kalgoth worked tirelessly as a wall to prevent them from reaching his fellows. Viktor disappeared, and Araluen caught sight of him on the other side of the room. He wasn't sure how the rogue had traveled the distance so quickly, but he was quickly closing in the old man on the far side of the room.

"Call off your minions, you fool," Viktor said to the man. "We're here to end Arugal and avenge you."

"Avenge me?" the specter laughed. "What do you know of it?"

"I know that this keep belonged to Baron Silverlaine, and that he and his retainers were killed when the worgen took it over. I know that you're the Baron, and you should be helping us kill Arugal, not fighting against us."

The two had closed in, and the Baron wielded a large two handed mace against Viktor. Its speed was no match for the crafty rogue's knives, but its range was long enough that he kept Viktor from getting too close to him with it. "I don't want Arugal dead," the Baron laughed. "For his crimes, I will torment him for the rest of his life. The man is completely insane, and I plan to never let him climb out of that madness."

Viktor shook his head. "Your petty revenge will have to be canceled early. We can't let his worgen continue to run unchecked over the region. You were foolish to stand against us. Already your servants are falling. They are not warriors and know nothing of battle."

Viktor's words were true enough. The horde of specters were all gone, their corporeal forms destroyed and their spirits banished. Kalgoth and Araluen had closed the distance and were already approaching Baron Silverlaine. The Baron tightened his grip on his mace, and glared at the taurens.

"Come on then," he taunted. "This won't end painlessly for you, at least."

The Baron was no match for them, however, and quickly fell. Viktor didn't spare him a second look as he walked by. He took out the sheet of paper Adamant had given him again and studied it for a long moment. "There are still two worgen lieutenants somewhere here," he said. "And Adamant saw ghosts wearing armor, as well, so expect to fight those as well. We've seen no sign of Arugal's pet, Fenrus, either."

Viktor started for the stairs in the back of the dining room. "Come on," he told the others. "By now, Arugal's figured out we're here."

They took several more halls, Viktor pointing out directions from the paper as they went, and eventually found themselves outside a room. Human voices could be heard inside, speaking in a language Araluen didn't understand. He looked questioningly at Viktor, as he was the only one of the group who spoke the common language of the humans.

"Baron Silverlaine's soldiers," the rogue said by way of explanation. "And unless I miss my guess, his commander, Springvale, will be in there as well."

Whatever issues Commander Springvale had been issuing to his soldiers was interrupted as Kalgoth charged into the room. Without pause, he bore down on the largest group of soldiers and laid into them. Unlike the servants and undisciplined worgen, however, these specters were well equipped and well trained.

They fought back with sword and shield, and only Kalgoth's superior size and strength allowed him to hold back all three of the soldiers at once. Kujimba backed him up with his magic, and Laxam sent several other soldiers scrambling for cover with his bow. "I'm running out of arrows," the hunter complained as he emptied another quiver.

Araluen stepped up beside his son and put his mace to work, crushing one spectral soldier with a heavy overhand chop to the head. They quickly finished the remaining two, then turned their attention to the other half dozen soldiers as they rallied around the ghost commander.

"Forward, men!" Springvale ordered. His soldiers presented their shields in front of them to deflect the missile attacks of both Kujimba and Laxam as they charged across the room. They were met by Kalgoth and Araluen, and Viktor slipped around behind them. His knives did their devastating work, and the battle was brief and brutal.

With only Springvale himself remaining, the captain produced a large, two handed war axe. He charged with the reckless abandon of a man who knows he's about to die, just like he had when the worgen themselves had burst into the room years earlier. Just like then, his charge ended with him dead on the floor.

The group didn't stop at all. All of them could keenly feel the press of time against them, and knew that they had no more time for idle chatter. Their battles had been loud, and it was only a matter of time before they met real, organized resistance.

Sashin peered over the wall to the ground below. "This is the wall you almost fell from?" he asked Great Father Araluen.

"Indeed it is," the old tauren responded. "We found more soldiers here. One of them had Kujimba on the ground, and probably would have skewered him if I hadn't barreled into him from the side. We both just about went over the wall then, but your father managed to grab me just before I fell."

"What happened after that?" Eleuin asked him.

Great Father Araluen fell silent for a time. He stood there, staring out over the wall into the forest beyond. Just as Sashin was about to say something, he shook his head. "I learned a few things about the worgen then," he said quietly. "There was one in the tower you see ahead of us. His name was Odo, Odo the Blindwatcher. If ever there was an enemy I regretted killing, it was that worgen."

Sashin's face screwed up in confusion. "What do you mean, Great Father?"

"Come, young ones, and I will tell you."

The worgen looked old and tired. His fur was a dark blue, but flecked through with silver. Jagged scars crossed his face, cutting across his eye sockets. Both were empty. His head didn't turn as the party entered the room, but it was obvious that he knew they were there.

"You are the intruders, then?" the worgen asked. "No, don't bother answering. Of course you are." His voice was rough, but surprisingly clear. It was the voice of a reasoning creature, one not ruled by base instincts.

"My name is Odo," the worgen said. "The others know me as the Blindwatcher, for obvious reasons."

"You'll be known as dead in a minute," Viktor promised.

Odo shook his furred head sadly. "I have no desire to fight. Honestly, I don't like Arugal. His magics snared my tribe and me, and pulled us into this world. We were summoned to fight other people's battles, and attacked by the very forces that dragged us from our homes.

"I would not be saddened to see that madman's demise. But the wishes of the pack come before the desires of the individual. I say again, I have no desire to fight you. Turn back and leave in peace, and I will let you go."

Araluen stepped forward. "We have come for Arugal's head, Odo the Blindwatcher. His magics and your worgen brethren have terrorized this area for far too long. Silverpine Forest must be rid of him. Stand aside and let us pass, and I give you my word no harm will come to you."

Viktor shot him a sharp look. "What do you think you're doing, Araluen? You forget your place."

"It seems your companion disagrees with your sentiments," the worgen said. "It is of no consequence. I can not allow you to pass through my chambers. You are strong, I know. Already you've fought several battles. Were you fresh, I am sure this would be no match, but you are not. Though it may cost me my life, I must end your mission here."

Odo lunged forward at Araluen. His claws sunk into the tauren's shoulders as he bore him to the ground. "Truly, I wish you'd accepted my offer," he said as his fanged mouth descended towards the shaman's face.

The shaman was not without his own defenses, however. A pulse of energy raced through his body and into the worgen, throwing the creature off the tauren and into the air. He twitched violently as he landed, but swiftly regained his feet.

Before he could renew his assault, Kalgoth was there. He hacked and slashed with his sword, but Odo calmly deflected the attacks using the large metal bracers strapped across his forearms. Viktor was behind him then, but never got the chance to attack.

Two huge bats unfolded their wings and flew from their perches amidst the rafters. Each easily had a wing span of four feet. They descended upon the rogue, grabbing at him with their clawed feet and latching onto him with their rows of sharp pointed teeth. Viktor cried out in pain and rage and worked his knife up into them. Their thick skin resisted the blade, but the rogue was persistent, and twisted the blade until he'd managed to slice into them.

"You are not the only ones with access to magic in this battle!" Odo proclaimed.

His skin brightened, taking on a reddish glow visible even through his fur. His size increased, as did his strength. Kalgoth gasped and dropped to one knee as the worgen smashed his fist into the tauren's shield.

With a kick, he spun the tauren the rest of the way to the floor and turned his attention to Laxam and his wolf. Blackwind snapped and lunged, then danced away to avoid the worgen's long arms. The hunter sank arrow after arrow into him, but the Blindwatcher seemed not to notice or care.

Kujimba's magic struck one of the bats hard, sending it spinning off through the air to crash in the corner of the room. With one of them gone, Viktor quickly dispatched the second, then rushed across the room at Odo.

The worgen growled at the sounds of his bats dying. It was a deep rumbling sound, one that actually shook the room as it went on. He continued to grow, and the red glow intensified with it. Now so tall that his head scraped the rafters, Odo made an easy target for Laxam and Kujimba.

"Dat be one big puppy," Kujimba said as he hurled several fireballs into Odo's chest. "I be tinkin' dat be the biggest one I be seein' yet."

In the end, it was neither the troll's magic or Laxam's archery that brought Odo down. Araluen strode up to the worgen, gripped his mace in both hands, and swung with all his might at the creature's knee. A resounding crack filled the air, and Odo toppled like a felled tree.

Almost sadly, Araluen extended a hand and called upon the Air to strike down the worgen. A bolt of lightning streaked towards Odo, striking the creature in the face and charring the flesh from his skull.

He turned away from the dead worgen and helped his son back to his feet. "Let me see what I can do for these wounds," he said.

The group left Odo's tower through a back entrance, taking the ramparts there to the central tower of the keep. "Arugal will be at the top of this," Viktor told them as they approached. "No doubt he's placed formidable defenses about the place."

They fought one last group of ghostly soldiers before they entered the tower. The soldiers were led by a specter with a large two handed sword, which almost ended up running Laxam through. The hunter was saved at the last minute by Viktor's intervention. When Laxam thanked him, the Forsaken coolly informed him that he needed him alive to complete the mission.

The base of the tower was a large, complex room built with split levels and several sets of stairs. Obviously designed as a choke point for the defenders to use, it was occupied by a score of worg and several worgen. The beasts did little to utilize the room's defensive potential, choosing instead to charge the party in wave after wave.

When the last worg had fallen, the party moved through the rooms to the stairs leading up and out. They climbed a circular spiraling staircase leading up the tower, but halted near the top.

Viktor silently crept forward towards the open door. He flinched reflexively as he peered through it, then backed up. A loud rustling sound came from the room as some furred creature moved.

"Damn, it's noticed us," Viktor snarled. "Go, now."

Kalgoth and Araluen took the remaining stairs three at a time and burst into the room, only to come to a dead stop. Before them was a worg larger than seemed possible. "That's a big one," Kalgoth said in astonishment.

Completely covered in jet black fur and more than tall enough to meet even Kujimba at eye level, the worg bared its teeth at the intruders as they entered the room. Shelves full of books lined the walls, and a table set with apothecial equipment was pushed against the far wall.

"Its name is Fenrus," Viktor said. "Arugal's pet worg and guard beast. We're close now."

There was no time for conversation after that. Fenrus closed the distance between them quickly. It snarled and snapped, raked with its sharp nails and used its size and weight to throw the taurens to the ground. Kujimba's spells singed its fur and left spotted patches of ice on it, but Fenrus never slowed. More of Laxam's arrows snapped against the worg's hide than sank into it.

The battle raged across the room. Kalgoth ducked and dodged Fenrus and returned the beast's attacks with his blade. When the sword did manage to break skin, the worg only snarled louder and attacked even more viciously. Viktor had somehow managed to gain the worg's back, and rode along easily as the beast thrashed and twisted. His knives scored a multitude of scratches across Fenrus, but neither of the blades could successfully part the thick hide of the beast.

"Dis be hopeless!" Kujimba yelled as the worg's tail of all things blasted him across the room. He crashed into a shelf, spilling books everywhere. Wincing as he rubbed his head where a particularly thick volume had clobbered him, he rose to his feet.

"We need ta retink our strategy."

"I'm open to suggestions," Viktor yelled as Fenrus spun and dove into a roll. The Forsaken managed to leap aside just in time to avoid being crushed between the beast and the floor. It regained its feet quickly and turned its teeth on Kalgoth as the warrior struck at it.

"Damn. I'm out of arrows," Laxam said. He discarded his bow and pulled a hand axe from his belt. Doubtfully, he looked down at the weapon, then up to Fenrus. With a shrug, he charged, yelling, "Lok'tar ogar!"

Araluen stood at the entrance to the room, his eyes closed. To his right, a totem glowed with yellow energy, sending its power out to strengthen his allies. To his left, a similar totem crackled as licks of fire spread across its surface. The fire gathered at its tip and spit out from the totem at Fenrus. The worg ignored the flames as he had those conjured by Kujimba.

Near exhaustion, Kalgoth didn't know how much longer he could fight the beast. His limbs felt heavy, and he knew that unless something drastic occurred, this would be the end of them all. He looked to his father, where the older tauren stood in place, eyes closed, swaying softly.

Araluen reached into the elements, beseeched them for their aid. He called upon the spirits of Fire, the most destructive of the four elements. He wasn't strong enough to cast such a spell, but there was no choice left. It was do or die. The elements heeded his call, and with a surge of effort, Araluen hurled a wave of molten hot lava through his hands at Fenrus.

The worg howled in pain then as the magma washed over its face and shoulders, burning deep into its skin and muscles. It went berserk then, thrashing about wildly. It crashed into the table on the far side of the room, and drops of magma burned into the wood, catching the entire thing on fire.

The echoes of its howling filled the entire tower as Fenrus cried in its death throes. Moments later, it went mercifully quiet, and the shaman slumped to the floor after it fell. Calling on the element of Fire that deeply had drained him, and he wasn't sure if he could still stand, let alone fight.

"What a nasty little surprise," Viktor remarked as he surveyed the damage. He inspected the worg's corpse, careful to avoid the spots of magma that still dripped from its melted face. "I had no idea you could do that. Why would you hold such a spell back for so long?"

Kujimba hurled a book at him. "Fool," he scolded. "Can ya no be seein' da shaman's exhaustion? Do it look like he be wantin' ta do it again?"

Viktor caught the book in his hands, but stopped just short of discarding it. "The Book of Ur," he read the title aloud. "This is the book from which Arugal obtained the knowledge of how to summon the worgen into our world." Without another word, he shoved it into a pouch belted to his side. The book didn't quite fit, but he bent and squeezed it until it was all the way in.

"Who dares interfere with the Sons of Arugal?" came a voice from overhead.

Viktor looked up to see Arugal standing tall on a balcony overlooking the room. The mad wizard gestured wildly, and the air around the study was rent open. Large, hulking figures with skin the color of the night sky slid through them. Their eyes were large yellow lamp-light pools of light. Their arms trailed almost to the ground, and ornate bracers curved upwards from their wrists almost to their elbows. They had no legs, but instead some sort of ghostly tail that trailed from their waists to the floor.

"Voidwalkers," Laxam said. Warlocks commonly summoned such demons to serve as their minions, and the orc culture dealt with them regularly. "Beware, they are dangerous."

One of the voidwalkers turned to Arugal. "Send me back," it hissed, its voice a strange mixture of gravelly tones combined with a hollow echo.

"Slay these intruders first," the archmage ordered. He gestured again, and disappeared in a flash of light. The voidwalkers, four in total, turned to the wounded and exhausted party. They advanced in a smooth glide across the floor, each reaching out with its long, muscular arms.

Kalgoth ran across the room to intercept the demon that was reaching for Araluen. He slashed down hard on the demon's outstretched arm, and cut in deeply. The voidwalker didn't bleed, but it did jerk its arm back from the sword. Kalgoth forced his way between the voidwalker and his father, then set his sword to work.

Laxam and Kujimba each dealt with another of the demons, and Viktor had snuck up behind Laxam's opponent. The clever rogue sliced it apart in a matter of moments before it could notice him, then turned back to find the fourth demon at his back. He dodged out of the way, then struck back.

Kujimba cried out as the voidwalker he was fighting reached him and laid its hands on the troll. It made no overtly violent motions, but its mere touch racked the mage through to his core. He sank down to his knees, tears blinding him momentarily. The voidwalker reached out a second hand to grab Kujimba, but before it could, the mage's head snapped up and a burst of fire erupted between them.

The voidwalker gave a long wavering cry as it faded away. Its bracers dropped to the ground with a loud clunk. The mage didn't look around, but he heard the same sound echoed across the room as the others vanquished the remaining demons.

"Are you alright?" Laxam asked as he bent over the corpse of the great worg and searched it for usable arrows.

"Da touch of a voidwalker do be bringin' up painful memories," the troll explained. "Dey be old wounds, but dat do no be makin' dem less troublesome."

The hunter glanced over at the bracers on the floor. He suppressed a shudder and continued his work. "Be quick," Viktor commanded him.

Kalgoth spun on the Forsaken in a fury. "Are you serious?" he growled. "We need to rest for a bit. Father is completely spent, and the rest of us aren't far behind."

Viktor stalked up to the tauren. He barely came up to Kalgoth's chest, but that didn't slow him in the slightest. "Stop whining, boy," he commanded. "Did you forget where we are? To stop here is to die. Pull your father to his feet; drag him along if you have to. We're almost done with this loathsome place."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out the door in the back of the study. Kujimba glanced sympathetically at Kalgoth, but all he said before following Viktor was, "Dere be some truth ta what he says. I do no be stoppin' for anyting now."

Laxam glanced at the taurens, then at the departing rogue and mage. With a shrug, he told Kalgoth, "Stop if you like. I'm here to do a job, and I mean to finish it."

Kalgoth glared at their backs, then turned to his father. "Can you walk?" he asked quietly.

"I don't think I have much of a choice," Araluen said wryly. "Viktor's made it clear he's not going to wait for me. Here, help me up and we'll follow."

Leaning heavily on his son, Araluen hobbled across the room and through the door. Beyond was a long, curving stairway that ascended up the tower. Slowly, they took the steps. It came out to the balcony that Arugal had been standing on, then continued upwards. They passed the corpse of a freshly killed worgen on their way. Viktor's knifework was plainly evident on its body.

As they approached the top of the stairs, Laxam came into view. "Quietly," he whispered to them before disappearing back around the curve of the wall.

Kalgoth glowered at the retreating orc, but he did his best to muffle the sound of his hooves clapping against the stone. As usual, he wasn't very successful. They reached a landing at the top of the stairs, where Viktor shot them a dirty look. He was kneeling in front of a door with his ear pressed up to it.

_Worgs_, he mouthed to the rest of them. He raised one hand, then slowly began closing his fingers. When he had only a single digit remaining up, he looked around. With a nod, he closed the last finger and threw the door open wide.

Blackwind led the charge into the room. Laxam entered more cautiously, preferring to save his limited remaining arrows for the most dangerous targets. Kujimba glanced curiously at Kalgoth, but said nothing as he stepped into the room.

"Take your place at the front," Viktor told the warrior. "Your father will be fine back here."

"Go," Araluen told his son. "Viktor is right."

Obviously hesitant to leave his father, Kalgoth gave him a beseeching look. Araluen shook his head and gestured into the room. Kalgoth's expression turned grim, and he drew his sword, then strode past the Forsaken into the fight.

Four worg were engaged in combat with Laxam and Kujimba. The hunter had already abandoned his bow and was using his small axe to stave off one of the worgs as it tried to sink its teeth into him. Kujimba had wounded another with bolts of arcane energy, but it was still stubbornly on its feet, and the mage was busy grappling with a third one that had him by the arm.

Kalgoth struck at that first. With a swift forward lunge, he ran the worg through with his blade, then withdrew it and kicked the beast as it let go of Kujimba's arm. He stalked through the room after it, but was only halfway there when he noticed a worgen on the far side of the room.

It stood tall with its arms crossed as it surveyed the battle. Its eyes narrowed as it watched Kalgoth close in on the worg, but made no move to interfere. Even when the tauren decapitated the beast with a powerful swing, the worgen merely stood and watched.

Kalgoth turned back to the fighting, but found that only one of the worgs was still alive. Blackwind had it by the throat, and was savagely jerking its head back and forth as his teeth ripped through skin. When the last worg had died, the large worgen finally stepped forward.

"I can't believe it! You've destroyed my pack… Now face my wrath!" the worgen bellowed as it charged across the room. Araluen staggered through the door just in time to see the initial clash between the worgen and Kalgoth. Viktor stood at the doorway, watching.

"You're not even going to help?" the shaman asked him.

"No," Viktor said simply. "I'm not."

Araluen gave the Forsaken an incredulous look, then stepped past him. "Be careful if you plan to fight," Viktor said mockingly. "Wolf Master Nandos is a dangerous opponent. Leader of the entire pack, I believe."

The shaman didn't look back as he replied. "I'm glad this is almost over, Viktor. You disgust me on so many levels that it's shameful to even associate with you."

The fight was brief, brutal, and bloody. Even as exhausted as they were, they still outnumbered the worgen heavily. It went down quickly, but not without inflicting damage. Kalgoth in particular took the brunt of it.

"Hold still, and I'll see what I can do," Araluen told him.

"Save your strength," the younger tauren replied. "I'll be alright."

"I am not so weak as that," the shaman said sternly. "Now hold still."

Waves of healing energy washed through Kalgoth, but not as strong as they'd been earlier. The warrior thanked his father, then turned his gaze to Viktor. "We are not your fodder, to be tossed away on a whim. When this is over, you and I will have words."

If Viktor was intimidated, he didn't show it. He ignored Kalgoth's words and walked through the room. "This should be it," he announced. The rogue twisted the handle and threw the door open.

The other side was a wrecked room. A broken set of stone stairs led down, and a wrecked balcony encircled the entire room. Arugal stood on the far side of the balcony, which was accessible from a second set of stairs that led back up. Three huge dark furred worgen stood at ground level. Each looked up as Viktor entered the chamber.

"Empty and desolate," Viktor observed as he surveyed the chamber. "Just like your future, archmage."

Arugal laughed. "You've come far," he said, "but you are weary now. Just like my sons, you too shall serve!"

The mad mage gestured, and the three worgen bounded up the stairs at Viktor. The rogue slipped to the side as the first reached him, and the beast skidded through the door into the room where Kujimba and Laxam stood. It was cut down before it could even react. Viktor engaged a second worgen, nimbly dodging its attacks while countering with short, stinging strikes.

Kalgoth pushed past them into the room just in time to catch the last worgen. They locked muscles against each other in a battle of sheer strength. Had he been fresh, the powerful tauren might have won, but worn out as he was, the worgen easily toppled him. They went over the side of the stairs together and crashed to the floor below.

Kalgoth roared in pain as the worgen landed on top of him, its fangs sinking into his neck. The warrior flexed his muscles, trying to force the teeth back out and keep the beast from tearing out his throat. With one arm, he pushed against the worgen's neck. Slowly, its head was pushed back.

Kujimba stepped up to the edge of the stairs and let loose a series of arcing bolts. They shocked and jolted the worgen, allowing Kalgoth to kick it off of him. He pulled his sword and drove it deep into the worgen's stomach as it jumped back at him.

The worgen gave a gurgling cry as it tried to back off of Kalgoth's blade. Before it got any farther, Viktor appeared behind it and slit its throat. Araluen hobbled down to his son and laid a hand on him. Healing energies swept through the younger tauren.

"Be careful," the shaman said. "That's all I've got left."

"Your servants are dead," Viktor called up to Arugal. "But don't worry, you'll be seeing them soon enough."

Arugal's answer came in the form of a tremendous bolt of black nether energy. It lanced through Viktor's body and threw the rogue sprawling to the floor. He sat up just in time to see Kalgoth taking the stairs leading up to Arugal in great leaping steps. The tauren warrior reached the mad archmage, but before he could bring his blade to bear, Arugal reached out a hand and slapped it against Kalgoth's chest.

"Release your rage!" the archmage yelled.

Kalgoth staggered back, and his sword clanged to the stone floor next to him. He hunched over, his hands clutching his sides. "Arrggghh," he cried as he knelt down. His body rippled and shimmered as he grew in size. His fur changed from the short, coarse hairs of a tauren to the longer, smoother hair of a worgen. His muzzle elongated slightly, became thinner and more feral looking. His horns disappeared into his skull, and pointed wolf ears sprouted from his head.

Arugal's insidious magic seeped through Kalgoth's body, and when he looked up, he no longer saw his friends and allies. With a primal roar, Kalgoth jumped down from the balcony on top of Viktor. The rogue didn't hesitate. He slipped his knives up and into Kalgoth's gut as the tauren-turned-worgen landed on him. Kalgoth gave another cry, this one of mingled pain and rage, and clamped his jaw down on Viktor's face.

"No, my son!" Araluen cried out from the door. Beside him, Kujimba was hurling blasts of fire and ice at Arugal. Some of them slipped through, but most seemed to splatter harmlessly against the archmage.

"Kill him," Kujimba cried. "Only da death of da archmage be reversin' da spell!"

Blackwind soared through the air, easily clearing the gap in the balconies. He latched onto Arugal briefly, but was blasted backwards by a second voidbolt. Laxam emptied his quiver at the archmage, but only one arrow actually stuck.

With an inarticulate cry, he hurled the bow at Arugal, then took a running leap and cleared the gap himself. He didn't land gracefully; in fact, he barely made it at all. Not one to let that stop him, he closed in anyway. Brandishing his axe in one hand, he swung several short, chopping blows. Arugal deflected them all with the staff in his hand.

On the ground, Kalgoth and Viktor rolled over and over. The rogue didn't let up in the slightest, and repeatedly slammed the knife in his free hand into Kalgoth's stomach. Kalgoth matched his viciousness. He'd ripped the rotting flesh right off Viktor's face and had turned his teeth to the rogue's shoulder, where his powerful jaws had already snapped through bone and all but sawed the appendage off.

Araluen's only thought was how desperately he once again needed the power that he'd used to kill Fenrus. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he understood the risks, and how summoning that much power could very well lead to his death. That thought was overrode by his son's plight, of watching Kalgoth's mind and body being controlled by Arugal, and Viktor's merciless assault on the young tauren.

Without regard to consequence, the shaman blocked everything else out and cried to the elements for their aid. Lightning erupted from the shaman as the Air answered his call. Arugal cried out as the electric blasts slipped through his magical wards and arced his body. Kalgoth didn't change back.

The stones themselves rose around the archmage, each one pummeling the man's body before dropping lifeless back into the floor and walls. With each blow, Arugal's cries became less, and the sickening crunch of bone and bloody pulp rang out. Kalgoth didn't change back.

Fire roared across the room, so great that it might have come from a mighty red dragon. Laxam leaped out of the way right over the edge of the balcony to the floor below. It scorched Arugal, burnt the archmage. Loud popping sounds filled the air as the man's flesh and blood burned and boiled away. Kalgoth didn't change back.

Ice coalesced around Arugal. It clung to his body, freezing him in place. His mouth hung wide in a silent scream as the ice overtook him. Araluen's chest heaved as he sank to his knees. He looked back to Kalgoth. The tauren had returned to his original form, finally.

"No," the shaman whispered in denial. "No."

Kalgoth lay on his back, his throat slashed wide open. Viktor stood over him, his face ruined and one arm hanging by mere threads of flesh. Blood ran down the blade of his knife and dripped to the floor. Turning away from the dead tauren, he climbed the stairs to where Arugal's body was frozen and scooped up Kalgoth's sword.

Viktor spun in place, whipping the blade in a full circle as it hacked into Arugal's neck, smoothly separating the dead archmage's head from his body. Viktor discarded the sword, and scooped up Arugal's severed head with his good hand. "I have what I came for," he announced.

Araluen watched the rogue through numb eyes. He was beyond drained now. Viktor calmly walked past him, Arugal's severed head swaying back and forth as he passed the shaman by. Araluen turned his gaze back to his son.

"Kalgoth," he said. "My son…"

Kujimba placed a hand on the shaman's shoulder as he knelt there. "He be gone now, mon," the mage said. "His death be a warrior's death. Ta his honor."

"There is no honor in this, slain by his own comrade," Araluen argued.

"It be up ta ya ta see it," the troll replied. "In ma mind, he died a warrior's death."

Great Father Araluen stared down at the ancient and worn stones. "Here is where we lifted your father's body from the ground," he said. "It took me a long time to see it, but Kujimba was right."

"What happened to Viktor?" Sashin asked. "Surely you didn't let him get away?"

"Viktor was scum, an evil and vile person. For Kalgoth's death though, I can not fault him, not fully. He fought to defend himself from Arugal's cruel magics, and my son was a victim of that struggle. Might it have ended differently if it had been anyone else? Surely Viktor knew that he only had to hold Kalgoth off long enough for us to slay Arugal. Mercy and hesitation were never his way, though."

The sound of clapping echoed through the room as three Forsaken walked in. They strode down the stairs calmly to stand before Great Father Araluen and his two grandchildren. "A splendid ending to a well told tale," the one in the center announced.

"Who are you?" Great Father Araluen said, his eyes narrowed.

"Vincent Godfrey, though you may call me Lord Godfrey," the Forsaken answered. "I've come to claim this charming little keep as my new home. It has such a unique history."

"Sylvanas wants Shadowfang Keep?" the old tauren asked. "Why?"

"Did I say anything about that bitch wanting anything?" Godfrey said crossly. "No, I've no interest in her wishes or desires. I want the place for myself, and I mean to have it."

"You're a fool to go against the Banshee Queen, then."

"Watch your tongue, cow, or I'll carve it from your mouth. I'm in the mood for a nice meal anyway," the Forsaken to Godfrey's left said.

"Enough, Ashbury," Godfrey said. "Though he does make an interesting point. It would be inconvenient to allow you to leave here alive. I wouldn't want the Horde knowing of my plans too soon."

"Run," Great Father Araluen told the younger taurens. "I will hold them."

The three Forsaken laughed. "What is one broken old tauren going to do to stop us?" Godfrey asked.

"This," the old shaman replied. A burst of blue and white lightning exploded from his hands, striking Godfrey square in the chest before rebounding to his two companions. All three of them were thrown from their feet to slam into the wall. "Go now, young ones. Inform the Warchief what you have learned here."

The two young taurens sprang away, Eleuin in the form of a great cat and Sashin a wolf. They raced up the stairs and out the room. "After them,Walden!" Godfrey screamed to the third Forsaken.

Stones exploded upwards as four totems shot up from the ground. The power of the Earth streamed through Araluen, snaring all three Forsaken and dragging their movements to a crawl. It lasted only a handful of seconds, but it was enough to guarantee the escape of the young taurens.

"You'll face me before you touch them," Great Father Araluen promised.

Godfrey brushed dust off his already ruined clothes as he turned to consider the old shaman. "Very well then," he announced. He whipped two pistols off his belt and unloaded a salvo of bullets into the tauren's chest.

Great Father Araluen sank to his knees as he clutched at the wounds. Healing energy washed through him, and the injuries faded. "Go now, Walden," Godfrey said, "Catch them. Ashbury and I will deal with this one."

Great Father Araluen stood back up. With a surge of his arms, he hurled balls of magma through the air to splash against Godfrey. The Forsaken laughed as he wiped the liquid stone from his face. "You'll have to do much better than that," he chuckled. "You know, Ashbury deeply enjoys toying with his victims before they die."

With a shared evil cackle, the two Forsaken advanced on the shaman. "They never seem to enjoy it as much as he does though," Godfrey remarked thoughtfully.

An elemental faded into existence over the flaming totem to the old tauren's left. It wouldn't be enough, he knew. He'd thrown the best he had at the Forsaken, and he'd been laughed at. He'd done all he could, and allowed his grandchildren to escape. Still, it wasn't the tauren way to surrender and die. Idly, he noted that he was standing in the exact spot his son had met his end so many years earlier.

"So be it then," Great Father Araluen said.

20


End file.
